


Trust and Other Wonders

by shinkonokokoro



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Family, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John/Sherlock, established; "John... The next step after a few years of married life is usually children." John snorted his tea, coughing and hacking as he stared at Sherlock's serene expression, violin cradled in his arms. "Oh God. You're serious!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust and Other Wonders

"John... The next step after a few years of married life is usually children."

John snorted his tea, coughing and hacking as he stared at Sherlock's serene expression, violin cradled in his arms. "Oh God," he gasped when he could breathe. "You're serious?"

"Of course, John," the other man replied with a sort of sneer.

"No. Dear God. No. Not happening," he said emphatically, just as all the images of possible disaster ran through his mind. John looked back down to his magazines, sure that the conversation was finished.

* * *

Two weeks later, John returned home from the clinic, smiling as he walked behind a tall bloke holding the hand of a four or five year old. The kid skipped along, jumping over cracks in the pavement. He chuckled, the sound abruptly freezing in his throat as the dark-haired man turned to look at the child. " _Sh-sherlock_?"

His partner turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips. "There you are, John. Two minutes late today."

"What are you doing?" John hissed, his head feeling light.

"Relax, John. I didn't kidnap him."

"Oh. Oh great, Sherlock. You didn't—oh god. I thought—"

"I didn't adopt him without your council either; don't be an idiot. I'm babysitting. Daniel, this is my husband, Doctor John Watson. You may call him Doctor Watson."

The little boy looked up with wide brown eyes and gave John a gap-toothed grin.

"Why?" John grit out between clenched teeth. "Why are you babysitting?"

"Come along, Daniel. It's time for tea. Coming, John?"

"Sherlock!" He shouted as they headed for the door to 221 Baker Street, repeating his name more quietly lest he garner more strange looks. He sprinted after him quickly, remembering all of the potentially dangerous things Sherlock would introduce to Daniel. Where on Earth had he found the child—and better yet, how had he convinced the poor suspecting person to let him take care of their child.

"...thing blow up?"

"Yeah!" came Daniel's enthusiastic reply.

John blanched. "No! Sherlock! You can't do this!"

"It's only a bit of vinegar and baking soda, John," he said with a cross roll of his eyes. "You seemed to be of the adament opinion that I would be irresponsible and careless with a child. I am proving you wrong."

John felt like he should kneel to gather his jaw off the floor. When his brain started again, John felt a sharp stab of guilt. "Sherlock."

His partner only gave him a blank glance, eyebrows arched. His eyes burned, however.

"It wasn't—Oh God. This is just a new challenge for you."

"You didn't think I could do it," Sherlock replied casually, but John could see the tension at the corners of his mouth

"It's not... It's not _like_ that. And it's not like babysitting a child for a day is going to be anything like having a child of our own."

"It's not just one day, John," he bent to murmur instructions to Daniel, watching carefully as he measured out baking soda and vinegar.

Experiencing two brain-stopping moments in such a short period of time was not good for him. "What does that mean, Sherlock. Sherlock? Sherlock!"

His husband murmured something to Daniel and the kid laughed, bringing John up short. That was... unexpected. Sherlock straightened. "Daniel will be staying with us for two weeks while his parents are out of town for their second honeymoon."

"And his parents are?"

"Georgia and Billy Sherwyn."

"Oh God. From _Bart's_?" He slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Yes. Honestly, John. Make tea. Sit down."

"Oh my God..." John sat heavily. "I can't go back. They'll kill me."

"John." Sherlock barked. "Go make tea. Be useful. You don't have to do anything. I'll take care of it all. Daniel and I will be fine. Your demonstration of faith in me is remarkable." He turned his back on John and knelt next to the boy and straightened the tarp on which they were going to explode the miniature volcano.

John wobbled into the kitchen to make tea. That was useful. The rest of the afternoon passed quite easily until John froze during dinner—Chinese—and had a small panic attack.

Sherlock only rolled his eyes. "He'll sleep in my room. Honestly, John."

"Right. Right of course," he said with a stoutness he didn't feel at all. "Have you—"

"Yes, it's child proof," Sherlock drawled.

"Right. And you—"

"Everything's fine, John. Cease your worrying. Daniel, time for a shower, yes? Your towel is hanging on the right and your shampoo is on the ledge."

Daniel nodded and smiled before putting his dishes in the sink. "Can I watch some telly after my shower?"

"No, you'll work on your homework," Sherlock said, rising and stepping away from the table himself.

"Um... Sherlock... _dishes_?"

"Yes?" Sherlock blinked at him.

"You're going to help."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and waved Daniel off. "Clean clothes are on the sink, Daniel." Then he leaned a hip against the counter, picking up a towel. "I dry."

John narrowed his eyes at him.

Sherlock grinned. "You never like it when my hands are pruned when I give you a hand job."

Turning bright red, John hissed. "Shut up!"

"Relax. Daniel's in the bathroom. He can't hear. And he's not listening."

Groaning, John turned on the tap and washed. "I can't believe you. This—"

"Shut up, John."

"No! You don't get to tell me to—mmmffl!" Lips smothering his cut him off and kept going until he was weak in the knees. "I hate you."

"I'll be extra nice tonight," Sherlock promised, drying the dishes.

* * *

Daniel went to bed quickly, following Sherlock's directions complacently.

"He's a good kid, John," he said later in bed when the two of them were sweaty and breathing hard.

"He seems it. I have to admit I'm a bit baffled as to why he listens to you."

"I'll choose not to be insulted."

John huffed a laugh. "Come on. You know what you're like."

"Yes, John, please keep going with this train of thought."

He groaned. "I don't mean it like that. Realistically though, you don't always...behave...the age you are."

Sherlock rolled half on top of John, burying his face in his neck. "Shut up before you fall any further behind. Just wait and see."

John sighed and let himself drift off. When his alarm went off the next morning, he started awake, cold. Sherlock wasn't on top of him as usual. John frowned, cleaned up quickly, and went downstairs. "Wonders never cease..." he murmured at the sight of Sherlock at the table with Daniel, calmly drinking tea whilst in his dressing gown. Daniel was dressed and eating breakfast, school bag by the door.

"Tea is on the counter, John."

"Wonders..." he muttered, sticking the mug into the microwave.

"I'm taking Daniel to school."

"Wonders..."

"You'll be at clinic by the time I get back. I'm stopping by to see Lestrade for work."

"You're stopping by. _You're_ stopping by."

"Yes, John. If this is such a problem, you should perhaps get your ears checked," he said blandly.

"Right. Of course."

"Daniel. Let's go." Sherlock swept passed John, fingers trailing along the back of his neck briefly in stead of a kiss.

He watched in wonder as Daniel watched him with wide eyes as the coat billowed around him like a cape. And then they left.

The pattern continued to the end of the week, Sherlock taking Daniel to school and then helping Lestrade. John worked at the clinic, but he always encountered Daniel and Sherlock on his way home. John ignored the texts from Lestrade asking him what was wrong with Sherlock.

There was one day—it might have been Wednesday where John was late and so arrived around dinner time, creeping quietly into the flat. Daniel was hunched over a book, giggling. Sherlock was pointing something out, the hint of a smile around his face. He paused, said something else and then the two of them laughed quietly. John's cheeks were hurting from smiling before he even realised he was smiling. The scene was so domestic of Sherlock that it warmed his heart.

Friday evening while Sherlock was typing away madly on his computer, Daniel watching some telly, and John reading, Sherlock's phone went off. He scowled at it and then rose, buttoning his shirt up again.

"Going out?" John looked up, recognising the signs.

"I must. Lestrade and the monkeys found a body and they can't make heads nor tails of it. I've got to go. Daniel, I trust you will be fine here with Doctor Watson."

"Yes, Sir!" the boy chirped from the sofa, his legs scrunched under him.

"John, bed time can be extended to 9:30 since it is Friday."

John stared at him, wide eyed, regretting that Sherlock hadn't asked if John 'trusted he would be fine here alone with Daniel.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes, lips twitching in an affectionate grin. "Honestly. You'll be fine. Just talk. Watch stupid telly. I don't care. I don't know when I'll be home—a few hours or less, I hope. Don't wait up."

John nodded as Sherlock swept out the door.

Daniel looked over at John.

John looked at Daniel.

Daniel didn't look away.

"So..." He cleared his throat, scratching his cheek.

"Yes, Sir?"

John leaned forwards, propping his elbows on his knees. "Do you like Mr. Holmes then?"

"Oh yes."

"Really?" John rest his chin upon his clasped hands. "How come?"

Daniel shrugged, nestling back into the pillows on the sofa. "He's... I dunno. He's neat. And he always knows what I want. Sometimes before I even want it. So I never need to ask. And he doesn't yell or get stroppy on me. He just...talks. Like I'm an adult. And he's super smart—he knows everything! And he has an brilliant coat! It's fantastic!"

John tilted his head. "Really? And you don't think he's strange?"

"'Course he's strange. But I mean...you're married to him. And you think he's strange, right? But you still hang 'round, right? 'Cause he's your partner, yeah?"

"Well of course. But..."

"It's just a part of him."

"He tell you to say anything to me?"

"No." Daniel screwed up his face. "Why would he do that?"

John laughed. "You're a smart kid yourself, Daniel."

"Danny's fine. You're not really a 'Daniel' type of person."

"Danny then." John nodded. "Game of cards then for a while? Or do you just want to watch telly?"

"Cards is fine." Danny smiled.

* * *

Sherlock ended up not getting in until well after midnight, though John wasn't awake to hear it. When he woke Saturday morning to Sherlock not in the bed, he panicked and then rushed downstairs, relieved to see him stretched out on the sofa, one arm fallen to the floor, face mashed into the pillow.

"He's kind of sweet like that," Danny said, startling John.

" _Jesus_."

"Sorry." Danny grinned up from his cereal.

"What are you doing up?"

"It's ten. I'm not a late sleeper."

John hummed, kneeling next to the sofa and lifting Sherlock's arm back up next to him, tucking the throw around him.

"Did he solve the murder?" Danny asked, excited.

"What?"

"That's what he was doing last night, yeah?"

"Oh... Um. Yes."

"It's okay. He told me that's what he does. You don't have to hide it."

John nodded slowly. Sherlock had an...interesting approach to childcare.

"He pays more attention to me than my da, you know..."

"He does?" John frowned at the boy. He didn't really want to think poorly of Billy. "Huh."

"John..." Sherlock mumbled.

"I'll make some tea," John mumbled, sweeping his thumb across Sherlock's cheek.

"So what are we going to do today?"

John shrugged, putting the kettle on. "Was there anything you'd like to do?"

"Could we go to the museum? I hear there's a neat exhibit about mummy's!"

"That would be fine," Sherlock said, staggering into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Danny said.

"Good morning. You washed before you ate?" Sherlock said, sinking into a chair.

John pulled down a second mug and poured for them both.

"Yes," Danny said around a mouthful of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth open, Daniel."

"Are you alright, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded. "Fine."

John hesitated before setting the mug down in front of him. "You know what. I'll take Danny to the museum. You rest. You look exhausted."

Sherlock shook his head. "Nonsense."

"When did you get in?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Five."

"Mm-hm. Go ahead and sleep. I'll take care of Danny for a while." John kissed his forehead and then nodded at Danny. "Let's get a move on then." Danny shovelled in the last of his cereal and then trotted off to Sherlock's room. John turned to follow but found himself held fast by Sherlock's fist in the back of his shirt. "Sherlock?"

He smiled at him. "Thank you, John." And then pulled him down and kissed him.

John smiled back. "'Course, love."

* * *

When John and Danny got back home from the museum, John shushed Danny on the stairs and opened their flat quietly. "Sherlock?"

"He's not here."

"How do you know that?"

"His jacket's not here," Danny said, lining his trainers up neatly on the mat.

"Hm. Well. Dinner? I'm sure he'll be home soon." John hung his jacket and kicked off his shoes as well.

"He left a note!" the boy called from the kitchen.

"Sherlock?" John frowned. "Sherlock left a note?"

"Yeah!"

"Let me see that?" Taking it from his hands, John read over it quickly. It was Sherlock's graceful scrawl. _Be home after dinner. Lestrade. Idiots. Eat without me. Love you._ He frowned at the scrap of paper, turning it over, looking.

"What's wrong?"

"Sherlock never leaves notes."

"It's his though... Right?"

John cleared his face. "Oh, it's fine, Danny. Go ahead and pick a flavour of soup." He turned away, pulling out his phone quickly and tapping a message out to Sherlock. The response came back quite immediately.

 _Working John. I'm fine. Note for Daniel's benefit. I'm fine._ _SH_

Sagging against the door, he quickly typed back. _don't worry me like that i was looking for a clue_

 _Oh John. :) SH_

John laughed and then put his phone away. "Alright then. Dinner."

* * *

The rest of the week passed without incident and John found him sneaking around his own flat, just to watch Sherlock interact with the boy.

"Daniel's parents return tomorrow," Sherlock said, stretched out on their bed.

"I know," John murmured, curled around Sherlock for a change.

"I know you like watching me. With him."

"I'm not even going to pretend to be surprised that you know." This brought a laugh out of Sherlock. "He's... He's been fun to have around."

Sherlock hummed.

"You'll miss him?"

"Miss him, John? He was a temporary fixture."

"But you'll miss his presence around here?"

Sherlock turned his head too look at him, face inscrutable. "I see. Yes. Yes, I enjoyed having him around. Yes, I shall suppose I will _miss_ him despite having no claim on the boy. I was merely a sitter."

"Are you getting paid for this?" John asked suddenly wondering if Sherlock had had the foresight to—

"Yes. I am. Handsomely."

"Do they know what you do for a living?"

"No."

"Probably better off for it," John grinned. "Be right back. Loo."

Sherlock hummed again, his eyes fluttering shut.

John went over to his dresser, pulling some papers from the bottom of a drawer quietly before returning to the bed and dropping them on Sherlock's chest.

"John?" Sherlock's eyes flew open and he scooted up against the headboard, eyes flying over the papers. " _John_." And then turned his awed gaze on his partner. "You..."

"Initial contact form, complete check list, Registration of Interest form... It's all there. We're approved." He almost laughed at the expression of jaw-dropping shock on Sherlock's face.

"You... How... I can't..."

"We can start looking whenever you're ready," John said, sliding back beneath the sheets. "And—oof!" The air pressed out of his lungs as Sherlock fell on top of him.

"John Hamish Watson... I cannot believe you," he said, voice low, driving directly down John's spine. He shivered at the use of his full name.

"Happy birthday?" He gasped.

"My birthday's not until the middle of March. You know that."

"Aha!" John crowed.

Sherlock pulled back and paled. "Dear God. You didn't know. You _didn't_?"

John grinned. "I do now." And pulled him down for a tender kiss.

"Oh..." Sherlock groaned. "I deserve this humiliation for you pulling one over on me."

"You see. I pick up. I've learned a lot, Sherlock."

"Show me," he demanded, dark, eyes hooded.

John took the papers and set them aside. "With pleasure. We'll look tomorrow, I assume?"

"Whatever you want, John," Sherlock promised, falling upon him happily. "Whatever you want..."

John kissed him fiercely and rolled them over, growling his agreement and proceeding to show him just how much he'd learned.


End file.
